Dance
by FallenNephilim
Summary: Charles is from a wealthy English family, and he hates the weight of the surname he carries on his shoulders. Turns out, he's not the only one. Charles/Erik


Charles tugged at the collar on his too-tight starched cotton shirt, wishing that he could disappear, possibly even hide out in his room for the rest of the night. His parents would have none of that, though, so he had to stand here in an itchy suit in front of millions of stupid guests who thought they were the best of the best and smile and wave as if he was happy to be there.

_Oh, bollocks._ He thought angrily. _This is ridiculous._

"Oh, look, dear." His mother pointed at a rather pretty girl who had been smiling at Charles since she'd arrived. "I do think she has a crush on you."

Charles pursed his lips, unimpressed.

"Charles," His mother began.

"I'm sorry, mum. I'm just . . . not in the mood for that tonight."

Charles flinched at the lie, for he really, truly hated it. He detested having to lie to his mother and father, but if he told them the truth – that he really had no interest in women whatsoever – it would break both of their hearts. Not to mention, shatter his mother's dreams of having grandchildren.

"At least go and look around a bit before deciding that." His mother urged. "Please?"

Charles gave in easily, wooed by the dimpled smile she gave him, and sighed as he walked off; mainly just glad to be away from the suffocating presence of his parents and all the guests they had crowded around them.

Ignoring the girl from before when she called out to him, Charles slipped out of the Xavier estate's back door and strode into the rose garden just outside. From out there everything was considerably quieter; peaceful and almost happy, and it made Charles feel a bit better.

The clear sky was dotted with little pinpoints of light, and the lack of a moon made the shadows seem deeper and longer than usual and a bit frightening, but Charles would not go back inside. He felt as if he was suffocating in there.

_Speaking of suffocating . . ._

Charles pulled off his coat, throwing it on the ground with a certain degree of childish satisfaction. He'd always hated the thing, especially the ruffles around the collar that tickled his neck. After a moment he decided to loosen his bow tie also, letting it hang around his neck rather than strangle it as he also undid the first few top buttons of his cotton shirt.

"Much better . . ." He sighed, sitting down on the squat stone wall that surrounded the garden and resisting the urge to kick off his shoes. That would be juvenile, and he wasn't a child anymore; he'd turned twenty just a few weeks before.

Then again, he _was_ alone.

"Hello?"

The sudden voice made Charles jump, nearly losing his balance and falling off the wall as he spun around to face the owner of the voice.

Standing there was a man he didn't recognize, and one who couldn't have been much older than him. He had short, wavy light brown hair that was combed over to one side, and gray-green eyes that sparkled in the starlight. He wore a sharp black suit complete with the bow tie and the shined shoes, and though he stood with all the regality of one of England's high-class citizens, there was a certain gleam of mischievousness in his eyes that belied his façade of pompous personality.

"H-hello . . ." Charles replied, somewhat uncertainly, to the other's greeting as he got to his feet.

The man's smile turned sheepish, those beautiful, gray-green eyes lowering to the ground. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to startle you."

"O-oh, oh! It's alright; I was just lost in my thoughts. It's no problem." Charles smiled, resisting the urge to blush. It would not do good to lose his composure here, not while he was alone with this extremely attractive man.

The man smiled back and then suddenly his eyes widened and he looked embarrassed. "Oh, where are my manners?" He said as he held out his hand. "I'm Erik Lensherr."

_Lensherr._ Charles knew that name. It was the last name of one of his father's business partners, a rather wealthy one, too. Charles had no idea that he had a son, though; especially not one so handsome and charming.

"Charles Xavier." Charles replied finally, shaking Erik's hand.

Erik's eyes widened slightly. "Xavier? Do you mean _the_ Xavier?"

Charles cringed and nodded. "Ah, yes."

Erik must've noticed the way Charles' shoulders slumped, for he stepped forward, looking genuinely concerned. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm sure you know how it is," Charles said, sinking back down to sit on the wall. "Carrying the weight of such a heavy family name and inheritance on your back is hard work."

Erik nodded sadly. "Yes, it is . . ."

Charles swallowed hard, wondering why he was being so open with a complete stranger even as he spoke. "Though the worst part about all of it, I believe, is the fact that you're always alone."

Erik looked at him strangely, obviously confused, and so Charles continued.

"I mean, people like us are always surrounded by others, yes?" Charles sighed, "But no one really knows us. Anyone who gets too close normally just wants to be friends because of your money, or your high status, or your good looks . . . it's not out of any real want to get to know you. And with that thought in mind, this sort of existence can be a rather lonely one."

Erik looked pained. "Charles –"

"Please don't tell me that it's not true, Erik." Charles said, "Because it is."

"That's not what I was going to say." Erik murmured, walking over to sit down next to Charles. "I was just going to ask if you, uh . . . I mean, would you mind . . . if I stayed here with you?"

Charles smiled softly. "Of course not, my friend."

Erik returned the expression and scooted a little closer, surprising Charles when their bodies touched, but neither pulled away. The warmth of the intimate moment soothed them both, and though – as previously mentioned – Charles hardly knew this man, he felt perfectly safe and calm around him.

"Erik?" Charles said after a moment.

"Yes?"

"Would you . . . like to dance?"

Erik glanced sideways at him, noting the vibrant, cerulean blue eyes that stared back at him, their brilliant hue framed by a head of fluffy brown hair, and nodded, his mouth going dry as his gaze dropped to Charles' delectably red lips.

They could still hear the music from inside the Xavier estate, drifting out through the open windows, and so it was quiet easy to simply take up their positions and dance. Erik played the part of the man since he was taller, and Charles – cursing his short stature – was the woman. Although, he couldn't suppress the ridiculously happy grin that stretched across his face as Erik wound an arm around his waist and pulled him close.

And then they danced.

Erik was a surprisingly good dancer, but so was Charles. And so they spun and laughed around the garden, their voices mingling in the cool night air. Charles liked to imagine them floating up to the stars; propelled by the overflowing joy they were both feeling in the shared moment, and he laughed – he _laughed_ – and leaned his head back, his laughter resonating through the wind as Erik twirled him around in a circle and let him fall backwards, only to catch him at the last moment and grin mischievously.

"Having fun?"

"Oh, yes." Charles smiled, his cheeks tinged with pink, but whether it was from their current closeness or the chill on the wind, Erik was not sure.

He thought it wouldn't hurt to find out, though, as he leaned down closer and closer to Charles. And, to his surprise, Charles let his own eyes flutter shut rather than pull away like Erik had thought he would.

And then their lips met and Charles was flying; soaring through the clouds on wings that had sprouted from his heart. Cheesy as the analogy sounded – even to him – it was impossible to describe it any other way.

They pulled back after a few moments, and Erik stepped away to give Charles a chance to straighten and calm himself.

"Charles . . ." Erik gasped out, "Wh-what is this? I mean . . . what are we doing?"

Charles, breathing heavily, took a moment before replying. "This is only the beginning of something wonderful."

Still a bit unsure if Charles thought what Erik thought he meant, the taller man once more tried to interject. "Charles –"

_"Ssh,"_ Charles breathed, "No more talking." And then he was surging forward once more and slamming their lips together.

Erik gasped as Charles literally took his breath away, and then in a moment of quick decision-making, he swept the smaller man off his feet, propping him up against the wall of the Xavier estate as they kissed passionately.

Lost in their tangled, heated embrace as Charles gripped the sides of the taller man's face, moaning softly when Erik ran his fingers through his hair, neither noticed the two dark figures that were standing off to the side; shrouded in shadow.

They probably wouldn't have cared anyway even if they had seen them.

"I guess this means that you'll never get those grandchildren." Xavier senior said sadly.

Mrs. Xavier nodded, and her smile, though wistful, was proud nonetheless. "I'm just glad that he's happy."


End file.
